


Letters, peril and chocolate gherkins

by NTK



Series: Who needs plans anyway [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Everyone wants a piece of Jaskier, Geraskier, His heart is a cockblock, M/M, Not Beta Read, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Rough Sex, Slurs, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23715478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NTK/pseuds/NTK
Summary: Sequel to ‘What would you have me do?’ – Some weeks after the events of their chase, Geralt and Jaskier have settled into a silent agreement of mutual benefit. Jaskier enjoy’s himself in Beauclair, until he doesn’t. Meanhwile, the witcher receives a mysterious note and task from an old friend. Eventually, he and the bard have to come to terms with what Jaskier’s heat and their new bond have set in motion…
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Female Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Who needs plans anyway [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700353
Comments: 20
Kudos: 396





	Letters, peril and chocolate gherkins

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! Huuuge thanks to everyone who read, liked and/or commented on ‘What would you have me do’! You thirsty shippers :D  
> First of all, I know prefaces can be tiring, but I had to refer to the previous events a bit before driving the plot forward. Bear with me please; lots of things will happen in this second part.  
> I’d also like to specify the timeline and place I have chosen for this series, however here’s your **SPOILER WARNING FOR THE WITCHER 3: WILD HUNT AND BOTH DLCs**. As the gamers among you may know, the duchy of Toussaint is where the DLC ‘Blood and Wine’ is set. I placed this whole story after the events of both ‘Blood and Wine’ and ‘Hearts of Stone’, assuming that Geralt has saved Syanna, Olgierd and also Ciri (who is witchering around the world I suppose). In my imagination however, I picture the Geralt and Jaskier from the Netflix TV series, as they are younger and therefore a better fit for my omega-verse twist :P
> 
>  **If you have not (yet) played the games or read the books** , here’s a few explanations that should be helpful:  
> Corvo Bianco – a vineyard/estate in Toussaint that was gifted to Geralt by duchess Anna Henrietta.  
> B.B. / Barnabus-Basil Foulty – the caretaker and general servant of Corvo Bianco  
> Duchess Anna Henrietta/ Anarietta – the leader of Toussaint; she had an affair with Jaskier a few years back and basically exiled him when things didn’t work out  
> Beauclair – the capital of Toussaint, incl. a district called San Sebastian  
> Mandragora – a society of artists located in Beauclair  
> Shani – one of Geralt’s many old flames; she’s a practicing medic in Oxenfurt  
> Megascope – a magical device used by witches, sorcerers and other handlers of the arcane; it basically works like Skype or Facetime. Only with crystals and hocus-pocus.  
> Xenovox – another magical device but basically, a mobile phone.

The road was quiet and easy. Few birds chirped from the bushes at the side; no ominent roars or high-pitched screams from the fields gave away any monster activity. In front of them, the rich and beautiful duchy bathed in the sunlight of an early day. A peaceful scenery, serene even.

The White Wolf and his bard were on their way to Beauclair. Geralt was looking for a new contract and Jaskier needed an assortment of a great many little things. Apart from that, a bit of intellectual exchange would do him good. Corvo Bianco was lovely, no question, but the workers weren’t too interested in discussing Essi Daven’s ballads or the latest developments in Northern politics. And Geralt, well, he was good for many things, but not necessarily conversation. But luckily, they were in Toussaint – culture, refined wines and a climate that could surely make the gods jealous – where else would one like Jaskier feel at home?

Right before he had accompanied Geralt on his chase after the vampire and her human, his friend had to help him resolve matters with Anarietta. Her fierce and illustrious majesty was not one to forgive lightly but even she had evidently come to terms with the fact that it would have never worked out between her and Jaskier. Thankfully, she had lifted his exile and the related warrant. So when the witcher had returned from a private audience with her, the bard could finally leave his hideout in Corvo Bianco and enjoy all of Toussaint without fearing persecution.

“I surely hope the Mandragora has lost some of its influence among the artist community by now. You’d think that quality rises to the top, not those shameless imposters.”

He didn’t expect an answer and wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t get one.

“Anyway, B.B. told me that you’re considering to actually make use of your vineyard? I think it’s overdue. Imagine holding the first bottle of your very own brand. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Gerald huffed as Roaches hooves move in a slow pace next to Jaskier. “That would be something. Given that you’d leave a bottle for me.”

At which Jaskier had to muster his best mock-outrage. “How you could even suggest that I am responsible for your depleting cellar is beyond me, Geralt. I have not touched a single bottle.”

“Hmm. Then maybe I have another freeloading bard hiding somewhere on the estate. Maybe I should hire someone to take care of the vermin?”

Jaskier crossed his arms. “You can take care of yourself if you keep being mean, witcher.”

And that, to Jaskier’s delight, wrought an amused rumbling sound from the white wolf’s chest.

Who would have thought that they could casually walk alongside each other like this, bickering and laughing? A prickling feeling coursed through him when his memory painted vivid images of the events of their recent adventure…

After clashing into each other on the first night of his heat, they had continued to fuck. Then they had slept eventually, fucked, fucked some more, ate, slept, and fucked. Geralt had him in so many ways; some of which Jaskier later thought he had dreamed up in his feverish state. Sometimes he awoke moaning with either fingers or Geralt’s tongue taking care of his abused hole. It had been nothing like the few heats he’d gone through before. Nothing else had mattered to them. Thinking back now, Jaskier wasn’t even sure that Geralt would have been able to fend off anything dangerous, had something _monsterish_ been lured to the clearing by the obscene noises they made.

When they awoke the second morning after their coupling had started, a letter had been pinned to Roach’s saddlebag. It turned out to be written by the nobleman’s son they had set out to ‘rescue’ from the vampire, stating that he did not wish to be found and did not intend to return to his father any time soon. The envelope also held a second, much smaller note in different writing:

 _Let this be a lesson, witcher.  
We will see you whenever _we _see fit._

“Well, great.”, was the only thing Geralt had said before descending back onto their merged bedrolls behind Jaskier and wrapping his arms around the bard’s chest.

“That’s it? That’s what we get for traveling all the way out here?”

The bard huffed in disbelief and let his head fall back on Geralt’s shoulders, hissing when the motion tugged at his still fresh bite wound. Geralt hummed appreciatively and licked the bite mark he had left on the omega. His breath on the saliva covered, red skin eased the pain a bit.

“Not much we can do now.”

“I recall you saying that he might be in danger still. That she might snap and kill him by accident?”

But Geralt hadn’t answered and simply turned Jaskier’s head sideways to coerce him into a wet, lazy kiss. They were occupied with each other shortly after and the witcher’s reasons for abandoning their quest remained a secret.

It didn’t take long after that for Jaskier to recover enough so they could get on their way back to Toussaint. Not having to follow clues around in circles, they had reached the borders of the duchy in about two and a half weeks. When they had stopped at the estate of the noble who had issued the contract, the man was furious that they didn’t bring him his son. He raved about how his associates had warned him from hiring a witcher in the first place. Jaskier -in a bold diplomatic move- reminded the lord that he was talking about the saviour of Beauclair; the man who had freed the city from the vampire attacks and saved the duchess’s sister. That, and handing over the letter from his son, softened the noble’s tantrum and had them return to Corvo Bianco with half of the promised pay in the end.

The omega had been worried that their new-found pleasure with each other would end there. Contrary to his previous apprehensions, he found himself in Geralt’s bed every other night and although the bard didn’t understand how, things worked out. Over the last two weeks, they had settled into a silent arrangement that could probably be best described as ‘friends with benefits’. It almost felt like, in addition to their friendship, the pair gained something _more._ And whatever that was, it made Jaskier forget all plans of returning to Novigrad anytime soon. Not because of the mark on him and what traditionalists may think it meant – this was the 13th century and he was a progressive man. He didn’t belong to Geralt, Geralt didn’t belong to him and whatever he felt for him… well, it simply felt right to stay in Toussaint for now.

Meanwhile, they had reached the streets of Beauclair, which lay below Anarietta’s magnificent palace. Geralt dismounted from Roaches back und made sure his swords were safely tucked onto the saddle.

“Do you want to meet up later?”, Jaskier chirped.

“Hmm. Depends on how long your shopping will take.”

Right, shopping. He had to see a healer to get his heat blockers, among other things. Not taking them had him wake up with a headache each morning. His body was probably too used to them by now.

“Shouldn’t be too long, but I cannot possibly return before visiting the Throttled Gull.”

Geralt raised his brows in question.

“The new tavern in San Sebastian. I heard it recently became the place to be. If the owner is as versed in the fine arts as they say, he will surely be delighted by me stopping by.”

Geralt answered the bard’s signature grin by rolling his eyes in an amused way that Jaskier knew was solely reserved for him. “Sure, nightingale, why not. I’ll join you once I’m done.”

The bard’s heart tingled. Could heart’s even do that? Apparently. “Fine, I’ll see you there.”

They parted ways and as he was strolling through the cobblestone streets of the city, sun beams on his face and music in his ears, Jaskier thought that he had really no reason to be anywhere else.

\- - -

Geralt’s day turned out to be pleasantly busy. The city’s noticeboards provided him with two new contracts: Cleaning up a noon wraith-infested homestead and finding a lost family crossbow.

Both were located in areas close to the city, so he even made it to the first in time to solve what kept the soul in the mortal world before he sent it off with his silver sword. The second contract proved more difficult, since the owner who was supposed to inherit the crossbow could only provide vague directions to where the ship carrying it had sunken 50 years back. The witcher therefor spent most of his afternoon diving in the waters north of Beauclair, taking care of drowners, but also finding one or two gems for himself to keep.

The sun had almost finished its daily run across the horizon when he returned the city and sat down for a well-deserved break on a bench in front of the Cianfanelli bank.

He was just about to take the first bite out of a chicken sandwich when a shadow fell onto his feet.

“Sir Geralt of Rivia?”

He looked up. It was a boy, about the age of 10.

“You can drop the sir, but yeah.”

The child’s face lit up and he reached into the satchel wrapped around his shoulder. An envelope appeared, but instead of giving it to the witcher, the boy held out his other hand. Geralt sighed and fished a coin out of his pocket. With a grin and a small bow of thanks, the kid ran off.

It reminded him fondly of the time he received a letter from Yen not far from here. He hadn’t thought of her in a while.

Opening the letter, the handwriting immediately told him that this didn’t come from his favourite sorceress. His eyes widened slightly in surprise when realised who the sender was.

_  
Dear Geralt,_

_I hope this message finds you well._

_Triss informed me that you are currently held up in Toussaint. While I envy you for the views and weather, traveling to Beauclair to speak with you in person is unfortunately out of the question in my current situation (do not worry, I am fine)._

_However, we must talk urgently, about a matter I best not discuss on parchment._

_Find a local witch or sorcerer in possession of a megascope or xenovox and tell them to reach out to the university in Oxenfurt. I will be notified by a trusted source once you manage to get through._

_Again, I must emphasize the importance of this. Please do not put it off, in your own interest._

_Best wishes,_

_Shani_

Geralt was left with several questions. Why was she contacting him after all these years? And what was so urgent yet secret that she asked him to find such rare devices of magical communication?

He frowned at the letter and then the sandwich in his other hand. To find out, he’d best follow her instructions. It wouldn’t be easy to find a sorcerer or sorceress around here; it would be even harder to convince them of lending their precious equipment to him. A portal would work as well, even if he loathed the damn things. Either way, he had to find himself some magic. The witch of Lynx Crag was the only address that came to mind in the whole duchy. And she was out of question since she made sure he could never find her again after their first and last encounter.

Toussaint was too large and too beautiful to be home to only one witch though. If there was one thing one could count on, it was the vanity of sorceresses. Hoping that he was right, the witcher devoured his meagre meal and set off to handle Shani’s special request.

\- - -

“Master Dandelion, another song!”

The Throttled Gull was pleasantly crowded and Jaskier was in his element. His more popular compositions were well known in Toussaint of course and returning to an audience that threw actual money and praise instead of foul vegetables and profanities was such a delight – as was hearing his old stage name. The streets outside had turned dark, but the tavern was filled with warm candlelight and held a cheerful mood. Two elderly men had recognized him earlier, offered him a drink and called for the owner to find him a lute. A shame he didn’t brought his own but being the professional he was, he quickly tuned the instrument and won over the crowd in no time.

“In a few minutes, my dear. Just enough to grab a bite. Will you wait for me?”

He gracefully took her hand and flashed his best smile. The pretty ginger giggled, swept her hand away and disappeared into the crowd.

“What’ll you have, songbird?”

His mind did something funny: All of a sudden, he felt an inexplicable craving for something sweet and sour. “Do you have gherkins? And chocolate, perhaps?”

He couldn’t even blame the inkeep for the mix of surprise and disgust that was visible on his face. “Uhm. Let me see what I can do.”

A few minutes later, the bard’s wish was granted: Three thick, pickled cucumbers and a few pieces of rich, dark chocolate. When he extended some coins to the man behind the counter, the inkeep just grinned.

“On the house, for the good entertainment. And because no one will believe me if I tell ‘em about this order.”

“Why, thank you very much.” Jaskier raised his glass of Est Est. “To you, this wonderful place and good tales!”

After he had devoured his uncommon meal – and found he was right about the mix of flavours – another lass asked him to play. Happy to oblige, the bard took to the stage once more.

After three songs, which were more or less accurate poetic depictions of his journeys with Geralt, he started wondering where the white wolf was. The bard had finished his fourth glass and it was close to midnight. Did the witcher forget about agreeing to meet here?

A raven-haired couple in the far corner of the room caught his attention instead. They were watching him, smiling while sipping red wine from their glasses. He was lean and muscular, she had lovely curves in all the right places.

The pair eyed him still. Whispers were exchanged between them, then a grin and a wink from the woman and the man gestured Jaskier to come over. The bard shrugged inwardly. Oh, why not. Once his song was finished and the applause subsided, he picked up his coins and went over to them.

“What a lovely tune.”, she said when he approached. “If half of your songs are true, you must not only be talented but also fearless. The thought of encountering such beasts…”

I always bring my own, he thought as he placed a light kiss on the knuckles of her extended hand.

“Verona Catillon. And that’s my brother, Meras.”

That’s why they looked so much alike.

“Julian Pankratz. Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

He chose to use his real name. ‘Jaskier’ might still ring the wrong bells with the nobility and knights.

“The pleasure is certainly ours.”, Meras assured him and reached out to run his fingers over Jaskier’s sleeve. “You must share the name of your tailor. I don’t often meet a Northener with such fine taste for fabric and colours, if I may say so.” His sister shot him a meaningful look, but the bard laughed.

“You may say that, my friend, and I take it as both a compliment and an honest assessment of my countrymen. It’s nice to be among folk who don’t consider linen worthy of carrying them from the crib to the coffin.”

Their laughs felt sincere which, in turn, wasn’t something he took for granted in Beauclair.

“Will you join us in our séparée upstairs? Drinks are on us, of course.”

He didn’t see why he should refuse such a generous offer by two rather handsome people. Geralt didn’t show and Melitele only knew when or if he would, depending on what held him up.

As it turned out, the Catillons were an entertaining duo. They went to a more secluded area above the common crowd and made themselves comfortable on a broad chaise longue with Jaskier in the middle. The siblings quickly filled him in on all the latest gossip of the court. Apparently, the duchess’s sister Syanna was still serving her sentence in the palace, which didn’t keep her from throwing the most extravagant parties and welcome the occasional roguish companion from her colourful past as a band leader.

“Sometimes it’s eight, ten people in her bedroom. Her illustrious highness is not amused. Or at least, that’s the official version…”

Jaskier let his head fall onto the backrest. Wine usually didn’t make him dizzy; he simply had enough to develop a sturdy tolerance. And yet…

“Oh, her illustrious highness is quite the fun loving kind herself, believe you me. Once, we sneaked out into the garden at night after we’d stolen some clothes from the servant’s quarters. Do you know the little fish they plant at the bottom of the lake for the annual festivities? Well…”

Verona tried to stifle her giggle and knocked her glass over the table, which made the three of them snicker even more.

“So you were the fabled bard who kept her company a few years back? Well, I must say, I am not surprised…”

Mera placed a hand on Jaskier’s thigh and squeezed a little. In the dim light, with the Est Est making his head light, the omega welcomed the touch. Also Verona’s hand stroking over his chin. He closed his eyes and hummed approvingly.

“We knew right from the start that we’d like you, Julian.”

_Jaskier._

“And we’d like to get to know you better. What do you say?”

Mera’s hand travelled further, gracing the bard’s crotch, and coming up to his throat.

“Hmm… aren’t you two a delight. Well, I’d say…”

Verona went the other way, sliding her fingers his pants and lightly grazed the skin right above his cock with her nails. Jaskier sucked in a breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another man watching them. Not his type, but he certainly seemed to enjoy himself, palming bis own crotch in one hand while the other balanced a heavy mug. He didn’t mind onlookers, even if this one seemed a little too eager.

Mera’s firm hand on his throat brought his attention back to the man next to him. His grip was not too strong, barely affecting his breathing and yet something in Jaskier twisted uncomfortably.

_Jaskier… breathe._

“Not there.”, he uttered quietly.

“Oh well.” Mera let go and tugged at the side of his collar instead, exposing the mark. The bard flinched. “You have been claimed. A shame really. But we can still spend some time together, can’t we?”

Without waiting for an answer, Verona lightly pressed her lips on his. Soft, warm. He moved against her, but hesitant, suddenly unsure. His hands were sweaty, and his mind wandered to other places…

_You smell even better than I imagined._

“Julian? Are you alright?”

The siblings let go of him and exchanged a slightly worried look.

“Yes. Yes… sorry. It’s just- I actually don’t know.”

He fumbled to get his clothing in place and got up.

“I truly am sorry. You two are great but, well. I think I should just retire for the night. Thanks anyway.”

He quickly turned away so he didn’t have to see their flabbergasted faces and headed for the exit of the tavern.

When the door closed behind him, he leaned back against the wall right next to it. What the hell? They had been interesting and interested, attractive and accommodating. And he just ran away like a scared virgin.

His fingers searched for the mark that was the shape of Geralt’s teeth. He pressed down on the skin, feeling a dull pain.

The idea of going along with the Cantillon’s invitation had been fun at first. Sex had always been fun. Or so he had thought until the epiphany that was his witcher friend. Fucking Geralt, or better, getting ploughed into the ground by him, was a new level and even when his heat had begun to subside, he still felt the same.

He inhaled sharply, but the cold air of the night only reminded him even more of that fateful evening three weeks ago. With Geralt, every interaction felt natural. The white wolf had no patience for idle games or fake-elegance in bed. Geralt just wasn’t awkward about anything and because witcher’s couldn’t father children, they could fuck all they wanted, even when Jaskier had been at the peak of his fertility.

But Geralt, contrary to the willing siblings upstairs, wasn’t here. In the future, he wouldn’t be present on many occasions. All it took was another contract he couldn’t accompany him on or even just a witch in distress. Thoughts of Yennifer and Triss fouled Jaskier’s mood even more. Sure, he was a friend to him, but Geralt had many friends, some of which he also shared his bed with. He himself was in no way special, which was why it was important that he remained capable and willing to charm his way into other beds. As he had done before.

For a few seconds, he considered going back in, walk up to Mera and outright suck his cock. Wouldn’t that be fun.

Instead, he cursed, kicked the wall, and started walking into the general direction of the vineyard. To hell with the witcher, wine and beautiful people in jolly places! Maybe a monster would attack him on his way home and then they would all be really sorry for riling him up.

He’d only passed a few buildings when-

“Where to, little bird?”

Jaskier turned around to see who the raspy snarl belonged to. It was the man who’d watched him in the tavern earlier. He leaned at a doorframe of a closed herbalist’s shop and looked the bard up and down, a weird glimmer in his eyes.

“Home, if you don’t mind, good sir.”

In the faint moonlight, he didn’t look too bad. But apparently, all ships to flippancy had sailed for tonight and Jaskier wasn’t aboard. So he continued to walk away.

“And what if I do mind?”

The hand that grabbed his arm startled him. Just a second ago, the guy had been several feet away; how the hell did he catch up so fast?

“Working good folk up and then trying to disappear. Nuh uh. I reckon you have some work left to do here.”

The bard felt something hard on his thigh when the thug pressed into his back.

“Get lost!”, he shouted and tried to shake him off, but the man had a vicelike grip and quickly grabbed his other arm.

“Feisty. I like that. You’re going to do just fine tonight, little omega.” Panic surged through him like ice. He wasn’t a weak man, but this guy seemed to have the strength of a Golem. He easily dragged Jaskier into the small alleyway next to them, where he pushed him face first into a brick wall. A sharp pain flared up in his brow and lip. “I can smell you. It hasn’t been too long, has it? And someone took you. Did he do his job? Maybe we should make sure.”

Jaskier’s wrists were forced together at his back, held in place by one ironclad grip. Should he cry for help? Would he want anyone to find him like that? When a hand grabbed his ass and started traveling south, he heard footsteps approaching them.

_Please, please, let it be help…_

\- - -

What had begun as a good day turned into a literal witch hunt. Geralt had spent the last five hours asking around for even faint clues about wise women, warlocks and the sort. Most of what he got were stories about waterhags and old women who had never married and therefore, of course, were of an evil nature. Lots and lots of bullshit, but no tale or rumour led him to believe that he would find either one of the two devices Shani had suggested.

His last hope, a local herbalist, pointed out that his closest contact of the sort was a sorcerer in Sodden. After that, Geralt knew that he would have to find another way to speak to his friend. The medic must’ve known what miracle she had asked of him and he hoped that ‘urgent’ incorporated at least a realistic time to make it happen. As things stood, he had to retire for the night. The moon already crowned one of the palace towers in the distance and he’d still have to pick up Jaskier.

On the way to San Sebastian, Geralt imagined how the bard would react to the news from Shani. After all, he knew her too. Come to think of it, the bard knew most of his friends and contacts by now since he accompanied him on his travels more than anyone else.

An alpha and an omega traveling together for years. It had probably only been a matter of time. Though Geralt had managed to keep his distance out of fear it would change things, that had become increasingly difficult. Eventually, impossible when he smelled the omega’s heat three weeks ago. And then, actually having him, owning him, fucking him into submission… ironically, he didn’t break the bard – but Jaskier broke him. His resolution, so much so that when he’d offered, the witcher couldn’t think straight and marked him.

Yen would probably kill them both once she’d find out. But Geralt wouldn’t apologize. It wouldn’t be sincere – he’d wanted it. Wanted Jaskier. Still wanted him.

Pushing away that thought, he dismounted Roach and left her at a water trough. According to the herbalist, the tavern was located only one street away. He was weary from the day and wouldn’t mind one or two vodka while listening to Jaskier’s songs before they went home. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he turned around the next corner.

\- - -

The stranger stopped in his tracks or at least Jaskier thought so since he heard no more footsteps. His head was turned in the opposite direction, so he couldn’t see if his arrival meant hope or despair.

“What’s it, friend? You want a piece of him too? He’s still fresh and needy, the little bitch.”

The hand that rubbed at the fabric between his cheeks went up and tugged at his waistband. “You can have a go after me, but it’ll cost y-“

A brief swishing sound – and the man’s hands and weight vanished off the bard, sending him to the ground where he ducked and cowered. After a few seconds, when nothing else seemed to happen, he eventually dared to look up from behind his arm.

The thug was on the ground two feet away. Or at least, most of him. A significant portion of him was scattered across the alley. Sighing of horror and relief alike, Jaskier scrambled to his feet and faced the broad figure that still held the sword.

None other than Geralt.

He just stood there, muscles flexed, teeth bared and a look in his eyes that had the bard frightened. He half expected the witcher to slash at the bloody mess on the ground again. Then Geralt looked up and eyes met his.

It was as if a spell had broken. The steel sword clattered on the cobblestone as he pulled Jaskier to him and into his arms. Only then the bard realised that he had held a breath, which now fled his lungs in a heart-felt sigh.

“Are you okay?”

His voice was commanding and filled with worry. Jaskier nodded once, his limbs still cold from what just happened. The witcher moved an inch away to check on his lip and brow.

“Ouch.”

“Not too bad, needs cleaning though.”

But the bard’s attention returned to the mess that had been his perpetrator.

“Gods, Geralt. He- he didn’t even have time to scream.”

“He could have had plenty of time if he’d make better use of it.” The witcher turned and picked up his sword, wiped it on the thug’s sleeve and sheathed it. “What? Don’t tell me you invited him to do this.”

“What? Of course not!” He leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath, hoping it would calm his nerves. “I don’t understand. He was so fast. And strong. I-I couldn’t shake him of.”

“Enhanced speed, strength… but human, it seems. A potion addict maybe.”

“He followed me. Attacked me.” Jaskier rubbed his hands across his face and was harshly reminded of the cuts.

“He got what he deserved.” Geralt turned to exit the alley but stopped in his tracks when the bard didn’t follow. His eyes were still fixed on the floor. “Jaskier, are you actually pitying that swine?” He sounded angry.

Of course he did not. He was shocked and shaken sober, for Melitele’s sake, and a little intimidated. But that paled at the apparent lack of his friend’s compassion. “Where were you? I waited in the tavern.”

Geralt huffed, but this time, there was no light amusement in it. “Yeah, I can smell the wine and perfume on you. Is that how you ended up here? With him?”

That’s when Jaskier snapped. “I fucking told you I didn’t bring him here; he followed me!”, he shouted. “I did nothing but perform and have some fun while waiting for you. Are you telling me this was my fault?”

Geralt turned around, his face a grimace of anger and disbelief. “No, that’s not what-“

But Jaskier wasn’t finished. “No, come on, Geralt. Tell me what I did wrong to deserve this; to _invite_ him. Because I dared to flirt, because I had some wine? Is that enough, yes?”

His rage drove the shock out of his bones. He started walking and pushed past Geralt – until he was grabbed by the arm a second time this night – and too soon after the first. An impulse made him jerk away. “No, back off!”

And Geralt did. Instead of approaching him again, he held up his hands, as if to calm a panicking animal. After a few moments of shared silence, when his heartbeat had settled again, the bard straightened his pose and turned away from the witcher.

“It’s late. Let’s just return.”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go home.”

\- - -

When he lay in the cosy pillows of Corvo Bianco’s guest bed, Jaskier’s eyes wouldn’t close. Paintings on the wall – some odd choices among them – watched him from their heavy frames. They didn’t look like they had any of his problems and he flipped a finger at the boring looking portrait of old merchant in particular.

The witcher was downstairs in the main bedroom and probably fast asleep after having to deal with other people’s messes all day. Jaskier wouldn’t know, he didn’t ask on their way back.

With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the sheets away and got up. The small mirror on the opposite wall told him that the bruises around his lip and brow already started to turn dark. Geralt had cleaned them, all the while they didn’t speak a word and Jaskier had not looked him in the eye once. He couldn’t; he was too raw. Not the kind of rawness he delighted in with the alpha around. And then they’d said goodnight.

He felt foul. His reflection looked at him like it was saying ‘what the hell are you even on about?’. He wanted… He didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he couldn’t sit here in the dark with himself when there was so much tension.

Dressed only in his casual pants, he made his way down the stairs. The hall was empty. Of course. It was probably around two or three in the morning and B.B. wasn’t nocturnal, as far as he knew. The bard stopped in front of bedroom door. He didn’t bother to knock, knowing that Geralt would hear him coming in case he was awake. And if he wasn’t… well then back to the guest room and wait until morning.

When the bard entered the master bedroom, it was too dark to see anything – expect for the pair of cat eyes. The omega walked over while being watched by them, until his shins and knees met the bedframe. The room was silent, and he waited. It felt right to wait. Obedient, trusting. A peace offer.

Jaskier could now make out Geralt’s contours in the dark. He was sitting back on his heels on the bed, had probably been meditating. When the witcher finally moved, the sheets barely made a sound. He stood up on his knees, closing the space between him and Jaskier by but an inch. A finger hooked itself in the band of the bard’s pants and tucked until they loosened. Warm breath grazed over the omega’s lips. _His_ scent… It went through him, made the fine hairs on his neck stand up.

Jaskier did not say anything. He didn’t need to. A moment later, the alpha’s lips met his oh so softly, careful even, like one would touch a precious, fragile being. The hand that wasn’t occupied with his pants came up to his face, cupping the bard’s cheek and ear. He sighed as if he was sinking into a warm bath and leaned into the touch. His eyes fluttered close and Geralt kissed him again, slow, and languid.

Their lips moved together as if they had kissed one another a thousand times. In tune, knowingly, affectionate. The witcher buried his hand in the bard’s soft brown hair and tilted his head slightly for better access. Jaskier opened up and welcomed Geralt’s tongue with his own.

The moan the alpha’s movements elicited from his mate was immediately repeated when his other hand cupped the bard’s cock and started stroking it. Jaskier distantly felt the pain as the cut on his lip re-opened and their next kiss tasted like blood. Geralt made a dangerous sound and his delicate, affectionate touches became harder.

“Do you like tasting my blood?”, Jaskier quietly panted. The witcher answered by fisting his hair and pulling his head back, exposing the mark on his neck. He bit down on it and the omega yelped.

They had done this before, in the safe secrecy of this room. Jaskier didn’t understand why, but whenever the alpha slightly reopened the wound, he felt as if he would enter his heat again. He wasn’t superstitious; how could a bite mark have any power over them? Make him so vulnerable, desperate for sensation…

“You still smell of perfume.”

“Then make me smell different.”, the bard whispered. He wanted to fling himself at the alpha, wanted to kiss him, suck him off, let his insides be filled by him. He scrambled to climb onto the bed, pushing at Geralt’s chest so he would make room for him.

“No, stay there. Don’t move.”

The omega obliged. If a bit taken aback. Geralt backed away, but just enough to look at all of Jaskier. Keen eyes took him in, his bare chest, hips and half-hard cock just above the now low hanging waistband. Jaskier wasn’t exactly a shy person, but in the silence of the night, under the scrutiny of the witcher’s gaze, he felt his skin heat up and had to avert his eyes.

“Geralt, what-“

“Be quiet.”

And for once, he did as he was told. But it didn’t feel good. What was this? Ridicule and rejection? If so, he wasn’t going to have it. In fact, maybe he should just pull up his pants and leave. The past hours had been frustrating enough, he certainly didn’t need any more pain today.

Just when his frustration had won over, the witcher reached out and placed a flat hand on his chest. Jaskier became aware of his own elevated heartbeat, the rhythmic thuds against the alphas hand. Their eyes met and the bard’s anger evaporated as his own uncertainty was met with confidence, guidance, command.

“Keep looking at me.” The order came in a hoarse voice but left no room for negotiation as Geralt’s hand grazed the bard’s nipples and slowly went lower. Anticipation send a shiver through the omega.

When the witcher took his cock in hand again and started to pump, his mouth opened slightly and let out a small, strained breath. Geralt’s thumb slowly stroked over his glans, collecting a drop of precome. Then he let go of him and sucked the digit between his lips, their eyes never leaving one another. The sight made Jaskier’s cock twitch.

The witcher came closer, positioned himself few inches from him. His hands skated around Jaskier’s hips, pushed his pants all the way down and grabbed his cheeks while he started to kiss and suck the skin right below his navel. The bard pressed into the touch, breathing through his mouth.

Geralt looked up to him, apparently checking if Jaskier was being good and kept watching. Then he licked along his shaft. One of the hands massaging Jaskier’s ass sneaked into his crack, fingers dipping into the leaked wetness, circling his entrance.

“…fffuuuck.”

The bard wanted to touch his mate, stroke through his hair but just as he reached out, Geralt let go off him again, shooting him a warning look.

_Be quiet. Don’t move._

A challenge then. Fine. Reluctantly, he drew his hand back and bit his lower lip instead. He could take it.

The witcher briefly nodded, pleased. Then he spit in his hand and went back to work, slowly pumping the omega’s cock and teasing his entrance. For once, the bard had no outlet. He bit back his moan when Geralt dipped just the tip of his finger into Jaskier’s hole while looking him straight in the eye. This level of exposure and the intimacy that came with it were practically unbearable and yet, it made him so hard and wet. Although the alpha didn’t go any deeper, he had already penetrated all of him. Here and now, Geralt owned him. Completely.

A lump in his throat made his eyes water and while he really tried to stay quiet, he couldn’t keep it in any longer. If the alpha went on like that, he would practically tease and pump him to the finish line. But then, the witcher released him again, leaving him hard and wet, raw and panting at the edge of the bed.

“What do you want, Jaskier?”

 _Your mouth on me, my mouth on you, everywhere, to suck you off, to be fucked loose by you, for you to come inside me._ Overwhelmed by the demands his mind shouted at him, he couldn’t say a word.

Instead, he stretched a slightly shaking hand towards Geralt, who took it and gently pulled him onto the bed. Their lips found each other again. Finally, being allowed to touch him, Jaskier put his arms around the witcher and pulled him close.

“Have me any way you want.”, he frantically panted against his lips. “Tell me what to do. Use me, take me, anything.”

A low and pleased growl rumbled in Geralt’s chest as he bit Jaskier’s lip again, making him whine into their kiss. Then he grabbed the omega’s hips and turned him halfway around, leading him to a position that had him on his knees and facing the end of the bed. Geralt himself made his way underneath the omega, propping himself up on the pillows.

Jaskier’s heart jumped when he realised where this was going. God, he would melt…

“What a view.”, the witcher commented before he spread the bard’s cheeks. Tonight, Jaskier was sane enough to feel embarrassed by the position he was in – his hole on full display for the witcher’s pleasure. When a tongue licked his wet crack from bottom to top, he shuddered and went limb, letting his shoulders and head sink into the sheets between the witcher’s legs.

“When I’m through with you, you’re going to be so loose and wet that I can push my cock all the way inside with one thrust.”

His moan was stifled by the sheets, but surely more than audible enough for Geralt to hear, who took it for what it was: An eager invitation. And the witcher dived in, sucking the sensitive skin just below Jaskier’s hole, biting it gently.

The omega fisted his hands into the sheets. Again, he was being torn apart by the alpha’s deeds and yet couldn’t touch him much in return. He wanted to, though; needed too. Geralt grunted, slid his arms around the bard’s upside-down waist behind his back and hurled his ass closer – which in turn, brought Jaskier closer to Geralt’s crotch. He eyed the heavy manhood and wondered… If he bent his back a bit…

Fingers dug into his cheeks when Jaskier took the base of the witcher’s cock in hand and licked over his tip. The bard gasped when his initiative earned him a spank, not too forceful and certainly not unwelcome. If it was encouragement or punishment, that the omega didn’t know. Either way, it didn’t keep him from circling his tongue around the glans in front of him and opening his mouth wide to take it in.

“Uhh, fuck… Jaskier.”

As the bard worked his mouth on him, Geralt -apparently inspired- continued to eagerly suck and lick at his entrance. The moans that vibrated around his cock made him so much harder as he proceeded to thoroughly tongue fuck the omega, who made no attempt to hide what that did to him. The witcher knew he couldn’t keep it together for much longer – Jaskier made him want to throw all caution and safety in the wind, take him and just fuck him senseless. Instead, he brought his fingers up to his puckered hole and started preparing the bard, who lightly rocked back on the intruding digits while also sucking Geralt’s cock like a pro.

Jaskier knew he was good at it. More than one handsome man would’ve been happy to write him a referral. But the witcher was just- well, very large, which made taking care of him like that incredibly hot and frustrating at the same time. The bard let as much of his spit-lubricated cock slide in and out of his mouth as possible, but he was hungry for more; wanted him whole. So he made sure to relax his throat as best he could, paused in his rhythm and slowly swallowed the witcher’s dick oh so deep – almost to the hilt, even if it made his eyes water.

Geralt shouted against his hole, clawing his hands in Jaskier’s flesh, his muscular body going rigid. The taste of his cock made Jaskier feel lewd and powerful at once.

“Jaskier, I’m-“

The bard knew and he couldn’t wait, so he neglected the warning and released the witcher’s cock briefly only to deepthroat him once, twice again.

With a low, powerful moan, Geralt came deep in Jaskier’s throat, who did his best to swallow all that was given to him. Some of the heavy load still spilled out of his mouth, covering his lips, and running down his chin. God, he felt so good and debauched, loose and dripping on both ends. Yet Geralt’s cock had barely depleted. The bard cupped the alpha’s balls and squeezed affectionately, earning him a somewhat choked sound from the witcher. His surprise turned into pleased amusement. “Your refractory period is a joke.”

A yelp escaped him when strong arms snaked around from under his shoulder joints and pulled him up. Geralt had repositioned himself underneath the omega. For a brief second, Jaskier was in denial about what he could do from this position. No, surely, he would not-

“Aah!”

Geralt had pushed up inside him, impaling him on his entire cock in one swift thrust. “And yet I don’t see you laughing.”

Jaskier panted and whined as the witcher barely gave him time to adjust before he started moving. Holding him up like that, spread and dripping, he drew out and pushed back inside with a self-righteousness that took Jaskier’s breath away. Forceful, possessive. Geralt bit down on his mark again, wringing a petty whimper from the bard. A reminder. He was being claimed and it felt so goddamn good.

After a few more deep thrusts, Jaskier was a shaking mess, his legs trembling, his whole body on fire from being split open like that. The witcher’s growl sounded pleased and he paused, sheathed inside his mate, trailing reassuring kisses over his neck. Then he lowered them both down to lie on their sides and picked up a less punishing rhythm. But the omega was so raw now, so sensitive to every sensation, that it was enough.

With each leisurely thrust, Geralt pushed throaty moans out of him. The bard reached behind him and buried his fingers in long silver hair as the alpha licked up the side of his throat and sucked his earlobe between his teeth.

“I never had a hole as good as yours. So tight and warm and needy.”

“G-Geralt… oh god…”

It was glorious, being stretched like that by him, their bodies flush together. But then, without a warning, is mate suddenly pulled out. When one of Jaskier’s legs was being lifted, a mix of wetness and precome trickled out of him and down his cheek. Geralt knelt in front of him now, over the bard’s lower leg and between his thighs, and watched him intently as he caught the wet trail with his index and middle finger, followed it back to his hole and stuffed the liquid mass back inside.

“So loose…”

Two, three more squishy thrusts and then Geralt took his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, tasting their joint mess. Jaskier whimpered out loud and put a wrist over his eyes. He couldn’t take the sight. This was merciless. Neither of them had touched the bard’s cock in a while and yet, he was so hard it hurt. The power the witcher had over him…

Geralt reached out and gently pulled the omega’s hand from his face, re-establishing their eye contact before he pushed the bard’s lifted leg up even further up and hooked his knee over his broad shoulder. “I want to see you.”

Then he drove back into him, his cock going deeper than ever before. Jaskier’s moan could surely be heard across the fields from here to Beauclair. He felt so incredibly full when the witcher’s knot began swelling in him, stretching his entrance beyond believe. Geralt’s eyes were on him and he looked both dangerous and proud, capturing the omegas mouth as he fucked into him with vigour.

“Come inside me. P-Please, I can’t last much longer…”

“Look at me.”

“Geralt. Aah.”

“Look at me, Jaskier.”

And just when the bard obeyed the witcher’s command, panting into their kiss, Geralt reached for his prick. It took only one stroke and Jaskier threw his head back, screaming. His load spurted onto himself and Geralt, who followed suit after few more thrusts and emptied himself deep in the omega.

The bard’s knee slid from the witcher’s shoulder while the white wolf was still riding out his orgasm in him, filling him more and more. Geralt collapsed on the bard even before he was done and Jaskier could only sling his arms around him in the divine aftermath of their shared climax.

To his surprise, Geralt made the effort to repeat the gesture, pushing his arms between the omega’s body and the cushions underneath to embrace him. Then he looked up and studied his face from lazy eyes before licking the side of his mouth.

“It opened again.”

A light sting told the bard, that he meant his cut from earlier.

“No wonder. Do you have any idea how freakishly big you are?”

He smiled and looked like a happy drunk in his thoroughly fucked state of mind.

“I didn’t hear you complain.”

“Because all of my mouth was filled with your beast cock.”

The bard was perhaps a bit proud of that retort, as it made Geralt laugh. He actually laughed. And looked unburdened for once… almost happy.

Something in his stomach flipped at this sight and as Geralt made an attempt to slip out of him, Jaskier hooked his ankles around the alpha’s hips in protest.

“Stay. Just a moment longer?”

The answer was a careful kiss to the unharmed side of his mouth. Jaskier’s mind briefly wandered back to the tavern, which seemed so far away, thankfully. He couldn’t even remember their faces anymore.

“Do I smell better now? Or still _parfumey_?”

“Hmm, no. Just right.”

After a few more minutes of intimacy, Geralt did eventually pull out and Jaskier tried not to show how hollow that made him feel. But the witcher still stayed with him and lay his head on the bard’s chest.

“I’m sorry. For earlier.”, he said quietly. “Just couldn’t stand the thought...”

Of someone forcing themself on his friend? Or anyone else having him? Jaskier wasn’t sure and right now, it didn’t matter. “Me too. I’m glad you were there.”

Geralt hummed and lowered his head into the bard’s neck, inhaling deeply, making him shiver slightly. There it was again, this tingly feeling in the bard’s chest.

And it was then that it hit Jaskier: This wasn’t just fucking.

Well, shit.

\- - -

Not much later, when bard and witcher were fast asleep, a slim figure emerged from the shadows outside the house. What she had witnessed throughout this day, and especially just now, solidified her decision to go through with her plan.

Apart from its necessity, she also looked forward to it a bit. If anyone would’ve told her a century ago that she would meddle with a witcher on her own free will… but things had changed. And after all, this one witcher was unconventional and would, if nothing else, certainly neither disappoint nor bore her.

She gazed over the estate of Corvo Bianco, looking for a spot befitting her entrance. And smiled when she found one. Time to set the stage.


End file.
